pumpkinstrokemarrow

Serious bit of music consumption brought on by heavy lunch (roast shoulder of south down lamb etc) followed by TB the other day. Part of the current trend of almost obsessive listening to the same piece over and over again, until that particular itch has been scratched out. On this day it was the turn of a Mozart violin sonata, K304 in E minor to be precise, executed by Pauk & Frankl, refugees, I think, from the Hungarian uprising back in the 50's of the last century. Violin sonatas do not seem to get many outing in London concert halls and so I have heard this one live just once. Executed on that occasion by Goldberg & Lupu respectively. Discs refugees from the aforementioned Oxfam bookshop in Tavistock. Great stuff, although slightly shocking for some reason to be get so much out of something so old. One wanted to make time stand still, a bit of a nonsense in the case of music. Can't stand and gaze at it in statis like one can at a picture. A repeat phrase button on the player would not really do the trick.

The odd thing was, that after this serious, indeed intimate moment, I thought to retire to bed with Finnegan's Wake. Funny indeed it was, but, at the same time vulgar. All this cleverness and noise, the product of a life time's learning, but it clashed, or cloched as the French seem to say, with the Mozart. Had to consign it to the nether regions under the bed and go to sleep. Must have some screw loose that I thought that one might reasonably follow the other. Like trying to drink cold white vino from Chile with fruity blue cheese from Portugal.

An interesting letter in last week's TLS. From someone who gives as his address: 'Bourne Hall, Spring Street, Ewell, Surrey'. Which sounds all well and good, but as I happen to live near the address in question, know it to be that of the public library and community centre. Almost what the French would call a salle polyvalent. So polyvalent that it was the place to where I delivered my application for a free bus pass. So why would someone write a letter to the TLS from there? I don't suppose they even take the mag. there. And, one might of thought that most people who bother to read the thing would want to read it in the comfort of their own home rather than chiselling the £2.70 cover price in a place full of seniors and benefit hounds.

And an interesting snippet. I learn that until the middle of the 18th century there used to be a May Fair in Mayfair. Obvious now it has been mentioned but it had never occurred to me. Despite there being the formerly splendid pub 'The Grapes' in Shepeards' Market, in Mayfair. Mr G. reveals plenty of May Fairs, but I did not spot one in Mayfair.

Good news a propos of the bread which made bad sandwiches yesterady. Despite my allegation that its place was with soup or cheese, it went down quite well with butter for breakfast. The chewy brown crust was fine at that time in the morning and the dryness did not seem to matter. The chewy brown crust not unlike that of the rolls which one gets for breakfast in hotels north of Watford. Perhaps, for example, in Belfast. All very odd. But I still do not propose to buy another one.